


For Hire

by Brothaigh



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AU, Assassin - Freeform, M/M, hitman - Freeform, merc au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29424066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brothaigh/pseuds/Brothaigh
Summary: Andrew Minyard wasn't sentimental - he had a job, he did it well; he could charge high rates because he'd never made a mistake.Neil Josten was a man who understood better than anyone Andrew had ever met.Kevin Day had no clue and no interest in Andrew's work - it was perhaps the most attractive thing about the man.Aaron Minyard was a twin, an angry, judgmental twin who would take the fall again any day.
Relationships: Kevin Day/Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day/Neil Josten, Kevin Day/Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	For Hire

It was cold when Andrew left the apartment - not the kind of cold that gives a chill, but the kind of cold that turns fingers purple and bites like a rabid dog. Kevin had insisted they move north to New York after college, ties to someone at the American Museum of Natural History meant he was almost guaranteed to get a position - Aaron took Kevin's side, though not because he liked the historian. Andrew had a feeling it was because Aaron knew he hated the idea of such drastic weather - the New York seasons were bitter on all fronts in Andrew's mind. Here they were, though, in a freezing New York winter and Andrew hugged on his gloved hands before he turned on his heel and started down the street.

Andrew had an agenda, though that wouldn't come as a surprise. He never left the apartment with a plan, and a backup failing that. Today, of course, was no different - the differences lay in his tasks of the day. Today was a Thursday, which meant mail day, and mail meant the potential for a new gig. It wasn't that the quartet needed money, they had enough for a couple of months in the moment, but Andrew needed something to think about that wasn't related to Kevin's newfound position as a curatorial intern. Kevin had had a stroke of luck, certainly, but Andrew swore that if he heard another sentence about the climate controls involving preservation of taxidermy, he'd lose it. That was what drove Andrew to leave the apartment not ten minutes after the final mail delivery of the day.

The blond's fingers were half numb as he fished the P.O. box's key from his pocket, they didn't really warm as he fumbled to unlock the tiny door. The cold from outside had crept into the post office and Andrew had seen a tiny heater going behind the employee desk - so many people in and out, he had to assume the standard heater just couldn't keep up. The lock finally clicked as the key slid into place and Andrew let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. The key twisted easily in the lock and Andrew pulled the door open. There wasn't a lot of mail to speak of, just enough that Andrew was certain he'd be busy. He took a small stack of envelopes stuffed them into one of his jacket's pockets - it was this that caught his attention. One of the envelopes clinked - it was the sound of coins brushing together. Andrew made a note to check for _that_ envelope as soon as he made it home, then locked the P.O. box and headed back to the street.

He wouldn't go straight home, he never had, and often he made it a point to stop at Aaron's favorite coffee shop. Andrew would insist that he knew this only so that he had the possibility to create chaos in his twin's life, but the truth was far different. Andrew knew that a redhead by the name of Katelyn worked, miraculously, every afternoon shift. Andrew also happened to know that Aaron could only make it in to the coffee shop twice a week during this shift. He wasn't a sucker for romance, but Andrew could see the bitterness in Aaron's eyes every time Neil shared his cigarettes or Kevin made a hot chocolate alongside his own protein shake. Andrew wouldn't say it, he didn't know how and he didn't think the words could ever do his feelings justice, but he loved his brother and hated to see the flashes of jealousy. It was small, but Andrew hoped he could push Katelyn toward Aaron - if nothing else, to give Aaron a momentary distraction.

Andrew couldn't help basking in the heat of the coffee shop as he walked in - he could feel his nose thawing and his cheeks warming. When he felt the feeling return to his fingers, Andrew gave in and stepped to the counter. As expected, Katelyn was there with a broad smile. Andrew didn't know what Aaron saw in women, but he knew what his twin saw in Katelyn. The blond feigned a smile, one he'd seen Aaron get as he talked about this redhead, and tugged his wallet from his back pocket.

"You know, your smile always brightens my day." Andrew would have gagged if he'd been saying those words sincerely. There was one smile that brightened his day, that was Kevin's. Andrew had to admit that Neil's smile terrified him - two things, heights and the smile of the first man he'd ever admitted to loving struck fear like nothing else. Katelyn seemed to bubble even more with the complement and Andrew knew he was doing this right.

"Hi, Aaron! Your usual today, I take it?"

Andrew kept his smile plastered to his face as he nodded. "And, you know, maybe you could give me your number next time I come in?"

If her blush was anything to go by, Andrew was certain Aaron would come home a happy man tomorrow. Katelyn finally nodded and smiled up at Andrew. "I'll be sure to give you my number then. For now, though, your drink will be ready in a few minutes and I should be helping the next customer."

Her smile didn't leave her lips and Andrew passed her a $10 bill with a wink. "Sounds good, ma'am." With that, he left the register and went to wait for the drink. He wouldn't drink it, of course, it was practically a black coffee with an absurd amount of powdered creamer according to Andrew's tastebuds. When he got it, though, he of course feigned a sip and appreciation and waved on his way out. Unlike most days, Andrew opted to hold onto the warm cup as he made his way home. It kept his fingers warm, even if the taste was something to despise. Just outside the lobby of their apartment building, Andrew dumped the cup in the street and tossed the empty cup and its lid in the trash. He marched inside just as the ache of cold began to set back into his fingers.

* * *

The apartment was unlocked when Andrew made it home, which meant Kevin was home. Andrew steeled himself for the excitement before he let himself in, but he found that excitement being directed toward Neil rather than himself. It took a moment to process, but Kevin was going on - rather animatedly - about a group of students he'd had the opportunity to take on a tour. Neil was being a good sport, nodding and actually managing to look somewhat interested. Andrew rarely caught himself surprised, but the look that Neil shot him told him that his expression was bolder than usual. Andrew simply took the envelopes from his pocket and held them up for Neil to see, hoping he would get the hint and find an excuse to sneak off to their bedroom. He left Neil to figure that out, dumping his jacket and gloves on the kitchen table before stealing away to the bedroom with the envelopes.

Andrew didn't wait for Neil to begin sorting out the envelopes. Most weren't of any value - letters from old clients and from people who had no idea what they were asking about. It was the letter with coins that Andrew was particularly interested in, though. It didn't take long for him to find it, the letters on the address were almost oversized and Andrew couldn't help thinking they looked uncannily like a child's handwriting. He flipped it over and opened it with the skill only practice can bring. He could see a few small bills and a handful of coins, and a folded letter. Andrew took the letter and set the cash-filled envelope aside.

* * *

_Dear Mr. Minyard,_

_My name is Anahi Moriyama, I'm 9 years old, and I need help._

_I'm not s'possed to be writing this, my daddy doesn't know I've been saving up my lunch money. (If he knew, I'd be in big trouble)._

_Things have been real bad at home. Momma won't stop crying most days and sometimes she won't let me out of my room._

_I know she's trying to protect me, daddy treats her real bad and when she's not there to stop him, he likes to treat me the same._

_Mr. Minyard, I don't know if it's enough, but I sent you my whole piggy bank. I just want to make sure my momma doesn't have to cry anymore._

_I hope you come to help us._

_Love,_

_Anahi_

* * *

The letter was short, but Andrew could read between the lines. He wasn't sure how this girl - _only 9_ \- had gotten his contact information, but it was almost certainly from a former client's child. Andrew could feel his pulse quickening, anger filling him, and Neil entering the room barely registered in his mind. In fact, he didn't truly recognize his presence until the bed sunk and made him tilt ever so slightly. Neil had settled close enough to almost touch Andrew, but far enough that he had to lean over to see the letter. He glanced at Andrew when he caught the childish handwriting and raised a brow.

"A kid's writing to a hitman?"

Andrew prided himself on the fact that he wasn't _really_ a hitman - he liked to consider himself a freelance sniper, he'd even worked a handful of cases with the FBI after he'd graduated college, before he'd met Kevin. It was how he'd met Neil, actually. Neil was the son of a mob-boss that Andrew had taken out. If it hadn't been for Neil, they never would have had the location of his father. If it hadn't been for Andrew, the Butcher of Baltimore would probably still be making mince-meat out of lower gang members - Neil might have been among them. Most of Andrews so-called 'hits' were court sanctioned - hell, court _ordered_. He would submit client requests to the FBI and they would approve or deny his requests. He'd never been denied, but then, he'd also never asked to fill the request of a 9-year-old. Andrew's clients were only ever approved because their targets could be proven as high-profile threats, the prices they offered, well, the FBI knew Andrew would never stay on the straight-and-narrow if he couldn't keep his prize. Andrew gritted his teeth and looked to Neil.

"No, jackass, she's writing to someone she thinks can help. I don't think she knows I kill people for a living."

Neil rolled his eyes and reached to the nightstand for a nearly-empty pack of cigarettes and the ashtray next to them. He dumped one of the sticks into his hand and brought it to his lips, then leaned over to Andrew. The blond obliged and brought his lighter from his pants to light Neil's cigarette. He let Neil take a drag, then took the stick and put it between his own lips.

"Are you going to do it?"

Andrew shrugged, Neil raised a skeptical brow, and Andrew finally gave in with a slow nod. He parted his lips just enough to let a puff of smoke fill the air between them and then brought the cigarette to the ash tray to tap off the end.

"I'm not going to run it by Wymack, though. Forgiveness is easier than permission, you know."

Neil knew this. Andrew's FBI liaison would never approve something like this, but he would certainly understand when Andrew explained after the fact.


End file.
